Dealing With The Devil
by Cody MacArthur Fett
Summary: Sometimes the simplest of questions can have the biggest of consequences. Mari finds this out the hard way one afternoon at the beach.


Arthur's Notes: After more than a month in post-production this story is finally ready. Special thanks go to my beta readers friedapublic, Pike Varash, Spirit Ryder, and Seraina for making this happen. Enjoy!

EDIT: Oh, and in case anyone is wondering, this is the oneshot originally posted on the Spacebattles "Creative Writing" forum that inspired _Amat Victoria Curam_, so if you enjoy this story and want more check out Spirit Ryder's fic.

Mari ran. She ran, and she ran, and she ran, and she ran. She ran over the brook near her home. She ran through the fields that were full of grain. She ran over the hills that allowed her to see for miles. She ran past the rotting fences. She ran past the broken down cars. She ran over the cracks of the old road. She ran past the ruined skyscrapers that now only consisted of piles of rubble. She ran until she reached the beach where red water lapped up against the shore in a steady rhythm controlled by the blood-stained moon.

She stopped for a moment to catch her breath, and began stretching her muscles. She wept. She had read in an old Pre-Impact book that stretching was what one was supposed to do after a run, so she did so. She wept. It was something she'd grown quite used to over the years. She wept. When she started she could only run to the outskirts of her family's farm, but now she could run the full ten kilometers or so in one go. She wept.

She finished her stretches, and wiped the tears from her face with her sleeve. She shouldn't have cried. She should have been used to it by now, but it still hurt just the same as it did when she first started.

Her mama and papa were fighting again. They did that a lot, but this time it had gotten really bad, like it always did. So she ran away when their shouting had gotten particularly loud, like she always did. It happened once every couple of months, and it hurt every time.

It was all right though, because when she ran away, they stopped fighting, if only for a little while. The weeks after she first ran away were some of the happiest of her life. Things were quiet, her mama and papa listened to what she was saying, and best of all it seemed like Mama and Papa really loved each other, just like in the old stories!

But it would never last. Eventually the screaming would start again, eventually her mama and papa would focus more on their conflicts then on her, and eventually they'd start hitting. Oh, they'd try to cover it up, tell her nothing was wrong, but she knew. She knew Papa didn't get that black eye from walking into a shelf. She knew Mama didn't get that cut from working out in the fields. She knew neither of them got those marks on their chests from fixing the roof.

It was all her fault, of course. It just had to be. After all, why would they stop fighting when she ran away?

She just wanted . . .

"Hello," came a calm and smooth male voice, an _unfamiliar_voice.

She jerked her head to her right to find the source of the voice, her heart filling with a primal sort of curiosity. He was different. He was a man, but he wasn't Papa. He had gray hair, like a spider's web. He had pale skin, like the milk her papa used to feed her when she was a baby and Mama was out in the fields. His eyes though, his eyes were red, like the giant head out in the sea that her papa told her was 'Auntie Rei' and that her mama told her was 'Wondergirl.'

"Don't be afraid," he said in that same smooth voice.

"Where did you come from? I thought Mama, Papa, and me were the only people left in the world," she said with a voice dripped in the curiosity of a child.

He laughed. He laughed a soft melodious laugh that put her nerves at ease. "The world is a very big place. It's very easy to miss someone if you don't know where to look," he explained with a reassuring smile.

"I... guess," she said, accepting the logic of his words. "I... I've got to go tell Mama and Papa about you!"

"Before you do," her began, interrupting her excited rambling, "I need to ask you a question."

"Sure," she replied. What harm could a simple question do?

"What do you want?" he asked with the curious sort of tone a doctor used when discovering a new disease.

"What do I want?" she repeated, confused at the question. What did she want for lunch? What did she want to paint her room with? What did she want for a pet?

"Yes. What do you want? What is it you desire more than anything? Surely you must have something that you want above all else; a place, a thing, an emotion, a... state of being? Anything at all?" he explained, never losing his smile. "It's a simple question. So... what do you want?"

She considered running away at that point, running away and never looking back, but there was something about him that put her at ease. She felt that she could tell him all her problems, and everything would be all right. So she did.

"I want our family to be able to live in place where we're not the only people around," she began, her voice weak. "I want to not have to worry about collapsing buildings whenever we go foraging for supplies in the city. I want to know all I can about Pre-Impact times. But most of all I want Mama and Papa to stop fighting all the time."

The tears were starting again.

"Well, as luck would have it, me and my associates have within our ability the power to give you all you need to achieve all that you desire," he answered in his standard happy tone.

"Really?" that delightful smile was instantly back on her face, and the tears stopped flowing.

"Oh yes. Your family can be happy and the world can be saved, and all you have to do is pilot the Eva," his voice never changed or wavered during his explanation.

"The Eva?" she asked, her eyes widening and wonder filling her voice. "You mean those big robots Mama and Papa used to pilot against the Angels?"

"The very same."

"I'll do it!" she replied quickly.

"Are you sure?" he asked in a slightly lower tone.

"Of course!" she had never told her mama and papa, but their stories of their time as pilots always enthralled her. Late at night, when it was just her alone in her bed, she would imagine that she was a pilot like they were. Her mind's eye would fill with the excitement of combat as imaginary explosions and gore filled the air, and her heart would soar on ethereal wings of joy. The thought that she too might be able to immerse herself in that wonderful LCL liquid and merge her mind with a 50 meter tall killing machine saturated her with an unquantifiable amount of elation.

"As you wish," he said as his smile grew wider.

"Wait! You never told me what your name was!" she pointed out.

"Oh, you can call me Kaworu."

She blinked and cleared her eyes.

She was sitting in a very comfy seat inside a metal tube. There was a folder filled with paper in front of her. Off to her right was a narrow hallway, and more seats. Off to her left was a black window. It was probably night time.

"Pilot Makinami?" a male voice said from behind her. He wasn't Papa, and he wasn't Kaworu. Another new person? Gosh, were they all men?

She didn't recognize the name though. On a whim, she flipped open the folder. On the first page was a picture of her, and next to the picture was a collection of words written in the blocky alphanumeric script her mama had made her practice. The most notable line that stood out was three simple words that made her heart skip a beat, a name, "Mari Illustrious Makinami."

"Here!" she called out. Her name wasn't Illustrious, or Makinami, but if she really got to be a pilot, she wouldn't mind being called that. She really wouldn't mind being called that at all.

_Sic Semper Tyrannus_

Carry on.


End file.
